


How to kill Thais

by Amphata



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Fluff, Human, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Shota, Sibling Incest, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Thorki - Freeform, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amphata/pseuds/Amphata
Summary: Hello!This is a collection of some headcanons from a human AU version of Thor and Loki that I have in my head. I usually never write those down, but then I met Thay, and I shared them with her, and she's awesome, and now here we are.Since these are set in a human AU, I felt weird keeping the names Thor and Loki, so the first alternative I could think of was (of course ehhh) Chris and Tom. You are free to imagine them with different names while reading, but I'm going to call them Chris and Tom.These headcanons will most probably not be in chronological order, because that AU exists in my mind and based on what my brain decides I will go back and forth on their storyline.





	How to kill Thais

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Manysidesofmyself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manysidesofmyself/gifts).



> I apologize for my English, I only just started writing things in a language that's not my own and I'm super self conscious about that :D
> 
> Fun fact! The title was the name I gave to the original Word file where I started writing down the headcanons after promising Thay I would develop them properly. Then I decided to keep it as the main title for the collection :D

The time came, that Tom got a bad fever. It was the first proper fever he had ever had in his life so far, and Chris was  _devastated_.  

He could see how concerned their parents were, and how loving, and how they only seldom left Tom's side. But they weren't  _devastated_. 

Chris felt he would have never smiled again, he couldn't eat, sleep, play; he was constantly by Tom's bed, trying to get him to interact in any way.  

"Hey look it's that cartoon you love! The one with the old lady who can shrink up to the size of a teaspoon!"  

"Tom hey look at this cool snake I drew for you it's green you like green"  

"Tommy do you want me to read you Peter Pan again?"  

"Hey I brought you ice cream! See? It's chocolate and lemon and it sucks but you love it, here have some please Tommy  _PLEASE_ ” 

But no matter what he did, Tom was just too weak to even reply, his eyes were very tired and lightless; he felt exhausted but couldn't sleep. He looked so small in his bed, so  _quiet_ , so far from the mischievous little goblin that Chris loved so much. 

Chris was dying more and more every day, it felt like his heart was cracking in his chest, he would have given anything to spend the rest of his life in bed with that same sickness, if that would have meant Tom could go back to be his usual naughty little sparkle of moonlight. 

 

Chris soon decided their parents were not doing enough for Tom, he started being very possessive over his brother; he would be the only one allowed to give him his medicines, take his temperature, refresh his boiling hot forehead with a wet cloth, clean him and change his clothes when they got drenched in sweat, and to try and get him to eat something. 

Their parents strongly opposed to this at first, but then they realized the child would be less whiny when his brother was in charge, so they reluctantly let him go on. 

 

One night, while he was lying on his little brother's bed as usual, holding him close to his chest, watching him sleep, making sure his breath was regular, and that he didn't roll down the bed, Chris found himself thinking. He couldn't sleep anyway, he hadn't gotten any real sleep since Tom got sick. And so he thought long and hard, he thought of every person he knew, every friend in school, every person in every book and comics he had ever read, his own parents, anyone on the TV, and he realized that something was wrong in the way he felt about his brother. 

Well if not wrong, very unusual. 

It so appeared, that if your brother was sick and coughing his lungs out you were supposed to express your disgust and get the hell out of there. When your brother was pestering you, you were to get annoyed, yell for mom and get her to take him away from you. When you talked about your brother in public, if you really had to, then you were supposed to roll your eyes and make sure everyone knew you'd be a thousand times better off without him in the house. 

Chris didn't get along with this line of conduct at all, and that was concerning. He seemed to always find a way to talk about Tom in public, no matter what the subject of the conversation was. His brother's name was constantly on his lips, and every time it came out, Chris' eyes would light up, and he couldn't but smile from ear to ear. His friends, he noticed, had the tendency to look puzzled at his marvelous stories about the Amazing Tommy, because from their point of view Tommy didn't look that Amazing at all. He barely had any friends, he didn't socialize gladly, he tended to stay on his own – the only exception, his brother. Also, the constant pranks were not helpful either. 

His head resting on the same pillow as his brother, his arm under Tom's torso, one hand lazily caressing Tom's cheeks, Chris thought of his friends again, and the books and comics, their parents, the TV, and of how people usually behaved towards their love interest. 

 

His heart stopped from the panic, and it started racing at the same time. Sweat covered his entire body like pins and needles. His breath stopped in his throat. It felt awful. 

His first instinct was to jump out of the bed, get out of the house and walk until his body ran out of strength. From there, start a new life with a new name, fake an amnesia, find a job as a pizza boy or something.  _T_ _hey don't need ID for that kind of things_ _do they_. He was going to be alright, he just had to leave immediately, right now. 

 

He sharply moved back, inches from falling from the bed, to get away from Tom's warm body. 

Tom, fever or not, was not having any of that. He reached out with his hand in his sleep, found his brother, moaned the smallest " _no_ " and weakly grasped Chris' shirt to keep him from going. 

Chris heart shattered. Tears started to painfully reach his eyes. He looked at Tom, so small in his bed, weak from the fever. Was he really about to leave him? What kind of brother does that? Even when that fever would pass, what if he got sick again later in life? What if he needed him, what if he wanted to play pirates?  _What then?_   The only thing Chris could do was to get back exactly where he was, and while he put his arm back under his brother's torso, he planned his whole future once again. 

 

Nobody had to know. That was absolutely unnecessary, and also dangerous. He would have lived his life pretending, he would have worn a mask until his very last day. He would have chosen a random girl, faked his love, faked his marriage, faked his whole family and kids. He would have spent his entire future hidden in a corner of his own mind, loving his brother desperately, in silence, and watching him grow, fall in love, have a family of his own. He would have made sure Tom was happy at all times, without interfering, without a word, loving him from a distance, living for him, and also dying for him each and every day, until his final breath would have finally taken him from Earth. 

 

The ones that followed were very hard years for Chris. 

Constant lies, constant faking, constantly hiding in his own mind. Years and years of hell, all the while Tom grew to be the sneakiest and happiest little shit. Chris would smile at him a smile made of pure sunlight, and he would cry tears of poison in the back of his mind at the same time. 

The situation soon took the worst possible turn. Chris thought he could do this, but he just couldn't. He started having suicidal thoughts, that turned into half attempts. 

He would get so close, so  _so_ close, but then Tom's laugh would play in his ears, the memory of his scent, the sound of his steps hurrying in their shared bedroom to show him the rock he found in the garden, and for this reason he had never found the strength to go through it once and for all. 

 _I'll breathe him in for one more day, tomorrow_ _I_ _'ll_ _do it_ _._  

 

He was masking his cuts and bruises as clumsiness, his parents didn't give it a second thought: he was indeed growing up a big, strong boy, and moving carefully didn't look like a natural thing to him. 

His latest attempt was to get one of those big knives from the kitchen drawer, place it on the floor with the blade up under his chest, and wait until his arms couldn't hold him anymore, so that his whole body would just drop on the knife and kill him. It would look like an accident, no notes left; a couple of tears shed, and they would have all moved on without him, he was sure. 

But then he remembered he had promised Tom to help him with his science project that weekend, and he got up so quickly his head got dizzy for a second. Tom had studied so hard for that project, he would have never let him miss the presentation. 

Not even to attend his brother's funeral. 

 

*** 

 

It was a nice, sunny afternoon. Tom was with his mother. He enjoyed her company, he felt her very close to him, always thought they were alike, the two of them. The sound of her voice was soothing, and she was an endless source of knowledge, the only one who would never get frustrated at him for his constant questions about literally anything. That afternoon, they were in the kitchen; the plan was to bake a pie. He had already finished his homework, and his mother found him nose deep in a big, worn out book he must have read a thousand times already. The love almost overwhelmed her while she reached her little gem and proposed the fun activity; the cheerfulness with which he accepted almost burst her heart.  

And so there they were, each on their assigned position, the TV on as a background noise, some sort of romantic comedy none of them was really paying attention to. Tom was at the sink washing the cherries; he was standing on a small wooden stool. He hadn't really  _needed_ the stool anymore for a while now, but without it he risked to get his sleeves wet, and he hated the feeling, together with getting dirty and accidentally sneezing on his own hand, with no tissue. Stool it is then.  

 

The look of absolute focus in his eyes while he washed those cherries made his mother's heart giggle. She was mixing flour and sugar and eggs, and was trying to answer all her son's questions at her best. Tom would ask a new one every two sentences in the movie, picking random words from the dialogues to ask her what they meant. 

"What's a stopwatch" 

"What's a gold gigger" 

"What are flamingoes" 

"What's the first kiss" 

That's how Tom found himself listening to his mother talk about how magical the first kiss was, how important and very powerful in people's lives, how it will settle in your heart and mind and never leave; no matter what happened next, one will always remember their first kiss. He listened and he washed the cherries and his heart started racing for absolutely no reason, while his mother mixed the liquid on the bowl and explained that it didn't even have to be the best kiss, it could be the worst kiss, but it's the  _first_ kiss and this made it super powerful and unforgettable and TOM ARE YOU ALRIGHT, she yelled rushing to him, because the kid was leaning on a side, on the floor, next to a small circle of vomit. 

What happened was, Tom found out about love at the same exact instant as he learned about jealousy, and that is a very dangerous thing to do. 

 

He was little but his mind was quick, and although he never stroke as the sympathetic type, he did feel, strongly, deeply. He just didn't know that yet, until he realized what he was risking to lose, what he was giving for granted, living with his head in the clouds, thinking that would be forever. 

His hands were dipped in the cold water, his fingers started squeezing the cherries; his mind ran to Chris immediately, why - he couldn't say, and he pictured him getting farther and farther away.  

 _This will happen sooner or later_. 

He was going to lose him. Chris would smile at someone else in the morning, make someone else his special blueberry pancakes, pick up someone else in his arms to carry them up the stairs, read books to someone else, sleep with someone else. 

There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop this from happening, and just when he was feeling the most helpless, then one thought hit him like a brick. Why think in future tense.  _How old is he_ _now_ _?_   Tom's quick mind raced and raced.  _He's gone. He's already gone,_ _I've_ _lost him._  He felt dizzy.  _How long has it been_? His head was spinning, he started losing his balance on the stool.  _How long_ _-_ _how have_ _I_ _not noticed, how long since_ _I_ _'ve_ _lost him._ His stomach gave up on him, but he didn't care. 

 

Tom felt nothing for the rest of the day. His mind was empty, his body didn't belong to him anymore. His mother picked him up, held him close to her heart, gave him a bubble bath, lulled him hoping he would sleep, but he couldn't. He stared at nothing, not a word out of his mouth. Was that how his life was going to be from now on? That empty shell? Powerless, broken? He didn't care about the fact that Chris was his brother. He saw no reason for guilt. What other people might think of them, meant nothing to him.

But he had him,  _he had him_ , and he didn't pay attention, and he lost him. 

After a long, painfully quiet time, during which his mother was cuddling next to him on his bed, caressing his hair, softly whispering soothing lullabies, he decided to look asleep. Since nothing was going to change anymore, since  _th_ _at_ was going to be his state forever, there was really no reason to keep his mother stuck with him in the room. She was the backbone of that family, and he had a clear image of how much she was pushing aside just to stay there with him. That was pointless.  _Just_ _go, see? I'm asleep. I'm fine._  

 

*** 

 

Later that evening, Chris came back home. He had successfully faked another couple of hours of cheerful social interaction, he was done for the day.  

He entered the bedroom, his soul tired; he figured his only light was probably on his bed, reading one of his beloved books, letting his mind travel to fantastic lands, following yellow brick roads, crossing wardrobes.  _Where is he going today? Is he enjoying his quest?_ He smiled fondly and sighed in pain. 

He found Tom lying on his bed, yes, but with no books. He was white as a sheet, staring at the ceiling with absent eyes.  

Chris' heart skipped a beat, he couldn't dare to blink, he wanted to speak, to ask, to make sure Tom was alright, but his throat was stuck, no air coming at all, nor in or out. He had never once thought about the possibility that Tom could be the one to die, instead of him. All that time worrying about his own life, and never had he thought that his brother could just stop breathing out of the blue. This kind of things could happen, that people died for something quick and unexpected and unpredictable and they were found by their friends or relatives and no one had a clue of how that could have happened.  

He stood there, his hand squeezing the handle, paralyzed from fear, when he heard Tom's whisper, faint, light as a feather, and yet so very heavy: "have you ever kissed someone?" 

 

Chris almost burst out laughing. First, because the relief was unimaginable. Hearing his voice, knowing he was fine, just lost in thoughts - his body relaxed, chills down his spine to stabilize the temperature, he sighed loudly. Secondly, since he had been faking his every move for years, and he had been trying to push away the moment he would have had to get physical with somebody as far as possible, he could very confidently reply "No, I haven't".  

He chuckled slightly, letting his body collapse on his own bed, grateful to the gods for his brother's health. 

He froze again when he looked up and saw Tom stand perfectly still, inches from his face. His skin was so pale, his eyes so big, and were those tears, forming in the corners? 

 

Tom's face was the portrait of desperate resolution, and Chris couldn't help but think:  _he's too small to feel this kind of pain_. But the thought came and went, just a split second, because everything happened very fast after that. He noticed Tom was clenching his fists, so he wanted to move, to touch him, he wanted to calm him down: whatever it was, it would pass. He was the master of letting things pass, after all. Chris was ready for anything, what was it going to be? Did Tom fancy someone in school? Were they going to start with the questions about kisses and girls and what have you? He braced himself, ready to fake again and again, readying his heart for the oncoming pain. 

But the air felt too solemn for some reason, like the time had stopped and they were frozen in that room for eternity. He didn't dare to move, he didn't dare to breathe. 

 

As if to prepare to jump off a cliff, Tom held his breath, then leaned forward and pressed his lips on his brothers'. He kept them there, warm and trembling, his eyes shut, the shakiest, faintest warm breath coming out of his nose. 

Chris' entire spirit froze, his mind, his heart, his blood. His eyes were wide open, and it seemed like he had no power to shut them, or move, or do anything really, at all. But then, he felt one single, salty tear slip between their lips, and the thought of his brother crying shook him to his core. He moved. 

Blinking in silence, gasping for breath, he watched Tom stand right in front of him, so very close, shaking quietly. Tom pointed one finger at him: "you are mine now". Chris' mind laughed ( _I_ _always was, love_ ), but his body did nothing.    
Tom continued, more tears crossing his cheeks: "I have your first kiss, it's done. It doesn't matter who you kiss now, you can go on and kiss the whOLE PLANET FOR ALL I CARE" he yelled, now sobbing openly, his trembling finger still menacingly pointed at Chris _"_ YOU CAN KISS EVERY PERSON IN THE UNIVERSE AND IT STILL DOESN'T MATTER, BECAUSE I HAVE YOUR FIRST KISS AND YOU ARE MINE". 

 

Well, Chris had done all he could, there is no doubt about that. He had spent years the shadow of himself, he fake went to football, fake helped in the house, fake laughed at his friends' jokes, fake lived for the sakes of Tom, and Tom alone, just to be near him in case he would need him, never interfering. But at that very moment, he lost every control he had ever had on himself, his heart just broke into pieces, and immediately grew back, stronger than ever. The tears he had hidden for all those years found their way out, crossing his face without mercy.  

He stopped thinking. That was it.  

If he had to be banned from the house, if he had to leave and if he had to die, if he had to live in prison, whatever came next, he didn't care. He grasped his brother's face in his hands, pulled him closer, and kissed him. He had no idea what he was doing, but he had the desperation of the man who, thirsty in the desert, found an oasis of clear, fresh water. Everything aligned perfectly, everything felt in place. His heart was light, his smile was true. After such a long, long time. 

 

Tom was expecting a very different reaction. His mind had quickly showed him the next 5 minutes; they were made of shouting, being pushed away, mothers being called, and the  _shame_ , the shame of rejection. Painful needles had killed his heart, one at a time, one shout at a time, one laugh at a time.   
What he got, instead, was bliss. Another new concept learnt that day. Whatever that was, it felt  _blissful_. He locked his arms around his brother's neck, his legs gave up on him, he fell down and found himself sitting on Chris' lap.  

 

They stayed like that, in silence, holding each other, glaring at each other, smiling at each other. More kisses were given. Not a word was spoken.    
When their mother quietly opened their bedroom door, later that night, to check on her youngest, she found them both lying on Chris' bed, embraced, asleep, and happy. 


End file.
